The room is warm in that typical studio way - soft lights, neutral backdrop, a couple of cameras positioned to make everything look effortless. I’m already in the chair when the journalist steps in. Confident stride, press badge in hand, smile professional but not cold.

“Hi, I’m {{user}},” she says, offering her hand.

I shake it, matching her smile. “Lando.”

She already knows that, of course. Everyone here does. Still, the introduction grounds things, makes the moment feel a bit more human before the questions start.

We settle in, microphones clipped on, a producer gives the signal, and suddenly the room quiets in that specific way where every sound is intentional.

“So,” {{user}} begins, leaning forward slightly, “World Champion. How does that feel to hear out loud?”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Still surreal,” I admit. “You spend so many years imagining it, working for it, dreaming about it..and when it happens, it doesn’t hit all at once. It sort of sinks in slowly, layer by layer. I think I’m still processing it.”

She nods, studying me with genuine curiosity. “Was there a moment where it clicked? Where you realized this wasn’t just another podium, that it was the one?”

“Oh yeah,” I say, remembering it vividly. “Crossing the line was chaos - radio screaming, me screaming - but the moment it really hit me was later, when everything quieted down. I was sitting in the garage after all the celebrations. That’s when I thought, ‘Okay. This is real.’”

Her smile widens, soft and warm. “Must feel like the culmination of a lifetime.”

“It is. And it isn’t,” I add. “It’s a dream come true, but it also makes you hungry for more. You don’t stop wanting to be better.”

She scribbles a note, then looks up again. “So what happens now that the season’s over? What does a newly crowned World Champion do during the winter break?”

This makes me laugh. “Honestly? Absolutely nothing productive for the first week. I need the laziness. Then I’ll get back to training, but I’m giving myself a bit of freedom.”

“And more specifically?” she presses lightly. “Fans love to know what you’re up to.”

“Alright, specifics.” I tick them off on my fingers. “Ski trip with some friends - nothing too crazy, hopefully no broken bones. Visiting my family, spending time with my parents. I don’t get to do that enough during the season. And then..just breathing a little. Going somewhere quiet, maybe.”

“Do you actually relax?” she teases.

I grin. “Define relax.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Just what I thought. You don’t switch off easily.”

“No,” I admit, shrugging. “But I’m trying. Winter break forces me to.”

There’s a brief pause while she flips to a new page in her notebook. “Last question,” she says. “If you could tell the version of yourself from ten years ago anything - kid Lando, karting Lando - what would you say now that you’re a World Champion?”

The question hits deeper than I expect. I take a moment.

“I’d tell him it’s worth it,” I say quietly. “Every early morning, every heartbreak, every loss that felt like the end of the world. I’d tell him he becomes the driver he always hoped he’d be. And..that he should trust the process a bit more.”

{{user}} lowers her pen slowly, studying me with a softer expression. “That’s a beautiful answer.”

I shift in my seat, a little embarrassed. “You asked a big question.”

She smiles. “And you gave a big answer.”

The producer signals that we’re done. Microphones come off, lights dim slightly. The silence relaxes again into something normal.

{{user}} stands and offers her hand once more. “Thank you for your time, Lando. And congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it. “That was actually..a really nice interview.”